


Pretty Things

by TheOddDucky



Category: Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Dorian Pavus Has Issues, Halward Pavus' A+ Parenting, Internalized Homophobia, Light BDSM, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-07-26
Updated: 2019-07-26
Packaged: 2020-07-20 03:11:15
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 862
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19985119
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheOddDucky/pseuds/TheOddDucky
Summary: It was not pretty, the thing they had going on.





	Pretty Things

**Author's Note:**

> Part of an old piece of work that I may one day finish. Maybe.

The Bull pushed him against the wall, his mouth nearly touching his. “I don't play nice.” 

Dorian, cigarette still in hand, didn’t flinch. “If I wanted to talk, I would have gone to a therapist.” Talk was dangerous. Talking led to feelings. Sex was simple. “If you are not all talk, I advice you prove you are worth the coin, or I’ll take my money elsewhere.”

The Bull’s, big, strong, callused hands were good for many things. They could be rough on Dorian’s skin, leaving bruises. They could be nimble, tying him to the bedposts. They could be gentle, reassuring things, as The Bull brought him back from the brink.

Now, they shoved him on the bed, Dorian’s cigarette had fallen on the floor, forgotten. The Bull, on top of him, heavy, trapping him. In his helplessness, Dorian was the most free he had been in his life.  
***  
Sera sat on her girlfriend’s lap, her hands cupping the dwarf’s face. They kissed, unabashed. 

Dorian saw them out of the corner of his eye. He tried to ignore their PDA, only to have the TV present him with the perfect couple. Pretty, unashamed, straight. A penis and a vagina, lips pressed together, for the world to see.  
He turned the TV off. Sera did not notice, her lips on Dagna’s neck. Unashamed. 

He bit back his snarky remake. Who was he to take away his friend’s happiness? It was not her fault that the closest thing to love he would ever have was the kind that came from a coin. 

That did not mean he wanted to watch, though. 

“I thank you for your company, Sera,” Dorian hurriedly grabbed his things. “I am afraid I must be on my way.” 

Sera did not have time to reply before he was out the door. “Did I do something wrong?”  
***  
“You shouldn't smoke so much.” The Bull handed him the carton. 

“I shouldn't sleep with prostitutes, or drink myself to oblivion, either. I like to live on the wild side.” 

“Eh, I can't judge. Can't count the times Krem told me to slow down my drinking. We all have our demons.”  
Dorian tried not to connect the name with the person. The old army buddy who The Bull lost an eye for. 

It was disconcerting that Dorian knew this.

“You need to be careful, though.” The Bull had a gruff voice, yet, there was a softness to it. “Your body can only handle so much abuse.”

Dorian lit his cigarette. He took a long pull, and blew the smoke in The Bull’s face. The Bull growled, grabbing him. Dorian, in vain, tried to free himself from the qunari’s grasp. He was placed on The Bull’s knee, his ass bare, his sins laid out before him.

This was the game they played. Dorian liked breaking the rules, liked pushing the boundaries, liked the comfort of knowing there were boundaries. The Bull had a firm hand, but he was only as firm as Dorian allowed him to be.

Dorian knew the word. The Bull made him say it every time they met, a reminder.

Dorian did not use the safeword.  
***  
Halward Pavus had a prized vase. A family heirloom which had been around for generations. It was a pretty thing. A piece of art that had no other purpose but to be pretty. 

When Dorian left, he threw the vase, the pieces scattering. He remembered his father’s face, the hurt in his eyes. He thought he would enjoy the hurt, relish it. Instead, it only reconfirmed his fears.

The vase had done its job. Dorian had not.  
***  
Dorian placed the money on the nightstand. It was a foolish thing, to allow The Bull to spend the night. Even more foolish was The Bull still being there when he woke.

“This is whatever you want it to be, big guy.”

Dorian recounted the money. The Bull was smart, he’d take the hint.  
***  
Sometimes, Dorian wished he was the vase. Could smash himself on the ground and lose the pieces of himself he would rather forget.  
His father’s eyes, his own eyes, staring back at him. You are no son of mine, their eyes said, the words stuck in the back of his mind, coming forth to remind him. 

In many ways, he had smashed himself. Left his home, and country behind. Smashed everything he was supposed to be, to be what he was. 

He found solace in the arms of a man who was everything he was supposed to hate. A qunari. Loud, and unabashed. The man on top, the one in charge, the master. 

By every standard, The Bull was not pretty. Even his strong muscles and tall physique was looked down upon in Tevinter, looking too “qunari” was wrong. 

What better way to smash himself, than to break every rule he had ever known? What other reason was their to give up his home, if not to indulge his most wicked fantasies? The ones he felt ashamed of during the day, but enjoyed behind closed doors.

It was nothing more, at least, he told himself that. Why he kept coming back, he could not tell you.


End file.
